Wilson Port, Tewanta - 3305-08-25 05:22, Galactic Standard Time
Commander Graves stood up from his desk, picked up his coffee mug and hand terminal, and walked over to the window of his office. He thumbed a virtual button on the hand terminal and the shutters covering his windows opened. The main star of the system was shining on the other side of the station so his view was now of stars. It was calming. As he gazed out a Cobra Mk III maneuvered itself into view and stopped in front of his office window, barely ten meters away. He looked on in shock, as the Cobra's weapon bay doors opened and four railguns deployed. He saw them charge and turned to run for the door. The railguns fired and his office windows shattered. One of the slugs took his leg off at the knee. The decompression of the office threw him back towards the window, tumbling, and into the vacuum of space.
Commander Graves woke up with a start in his office. The window was intact, the shutters still closed. That damned nightmare again. He'd been having it for over a week. The ship wasn't always the same, but it always played out in a similar fashion: always railguns and he always died. He shook his head clear. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again. That was the third time this week. The combat stims and performance enhancers that he was taking were supposed to prevent that. He had been on them for thirty seven days though, so he supposed it was inevitable that they would become less effective. He should get some rest, but whenever he went to get some bunk time, some disaster struck. The Official Tewanta Order now had three percent influence in Tewanta. Every faction other that The Buurian Protectorate had had their influence reduced. So far, The Buurian Protectorate had not seized all the stations and ports. The Order still had its surface installation. Instead, The Buurian Protectorate were expanding into nearby systems. First was Chu I, where they captured another agricultural installation. Then, a few hours ago, they expanded into Mulung. Thankfully, The Order had no interests there.
He opened his drawer and took out the bottles of pills. Two of each, this morning, he thought. No, three. He'll need to be sharp to analyze any potential opportunities that arose from The Buurian Protectorate's expansion or, he thought glumly, any new unforeseen threats. He stood up, pills in hand, and grabbed his empty coffee mug. He walked out into the corridor and down to the small rec. room/kitchenette that his staff used. There was nobody there. All the offices nearby were empty too. It was late, or early, depending on your point of view, but, not too long ago he could have relied on a few eager junior officers to be around. Lazy, ungrateful traitors the lot of them. He stomped over to the coffee dispenser, rammed his mug into the mechanism, and stabbed at the button with his finger to select black coffee. The machine gurgled as he waited impatiently. He tossed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with too hot coffee. It scalded his mouth, but he didn't care.
Back in his office he reviewed the current situation. The Order was almost without influence in Tewanta, and hovering at ten percent influence in Chu I and BD+47 2267. Another Colonel from Central Command was assassinated during a conflict with the Tewanta Organization, CMDR Yaga Shura was suspected again, and the remaining colonels had gone into hiding. He was on his own. The idiots lost the war in Chu I against Chu I Purple Electronics Holdings, which was a chance to take a productive asset and fortify against the eco-hippies. He raged just thinking about it.
The little terrorist cell that he helped finance, the Tewanta Warriors of Elder Righteousness Platoon, were all but wiped out. First they got involved in a drug deal with the Chu I Purple Cartel. It went bad, and the resulting gun battle in a surface installation resulted in the death of everyone there. Some idiot, most likely a TWERP, decided that a plasma grenade was an appropriate weapon to use in a pressurized facility on an airless planet. He could strangle someone with his bare hands. He could see the face of the likely culprit. He imagined it going red, then purple, as he squeezed.
Commander Graves shook his head. He was so angry these days. He needed to get a grip on that. It made him prone to mistakes. But his minions were so incompetent. The second mistake that the TWERPs made was messing up smuggling nerve agents on board the station. The were careless and some dock worker got suspicious. Commissar DeBurgh was killed during the operation: low gravity combat training normally gives a winning edge in such sittuations, but not if the opponent has friends in control of high powered pulse lasers with an overview of the whole area. He'd have killed DeBurgh himself if there was anything left of him, for being so stupid. And as for the port side contact in this little schems, he was taken into custody. The idiot couldn't even take a suicide pill successfully. Commander Graves thumped the table hard enough to slosh coffee out of his mug.
Where was his assistant? Why wasn't he here? He could see the little mousy faced idiot now, always flinching, expecting a blow. The coward. He should just shoot him in the head and be done with it. A quick laser shot and he be rid of the clown.
Commander Graves took a deep breath and realized that he had drawn his laser pistol from the hidden compartment in his desk and was holding it in a firing grip in front of himself. Slowly, he lowered the gun and put it away. He was losing control, he realized. Too long on the stimulants and performance enhancers. He picked up the bottle of the stims and read it. Yep! There it was: "Side effects can include paranoia and mood swings. Prolonged use, for more than five days, should only be done under close medical supervision." So it was over. He was compromised. He was no longer fit for command. He'd lost. In a way it was a relief. He could let go of the responsibility.
He sent a message to his assistant to authorize him to look after routine matters, made an appointment with the station medical center, and turned off his terminal. He walked out of his office and closed the door behind him. Perhaps the doctors could help him get some sleep, without that damned nightmare.